


hold on to me (cause i'm a little unsteady)

by Crisp_Sobriety



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Teahaw, fjorclay, in which Fjord pines just so much, it's a little sketchy but it's also tender nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crisp_Sobriety/pseuds/Crisp_Sobriety
Summary: Something about the situation –-the low purple light, the nearness, the whispering— made him shiver, in a way he was not prepared to examine right now.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 26
Kudos: 181





	hold on to me (cause i'm a little unsteady)

One night, when everyone was asleep in Caleb’s hut, the guardian looming in its halo of amethyst light, Fjord looked over at the unconscious Caduceus and, in a kind of epiphany, noticed all at once and for the first time that this was a very young man.

The idea struck Fjord strangely. He looked closer.

He was only a few feet to Fjord's right, laying supine, breathing in time with the crickets outside. The air smelled like warm bodies and cool night, mixed with something like grass but earthier. Fjord suspected moss. It was pleasant. Most things about Caduceus, in Fjord's opinion, were pleasant.

He could not exactly place what was different.

When he first met him, Caduceus seemed neither young nor old. He seemed inhuman. Ungraspable. With his cervine face; and the decay trailing after his footsteps; and the way he looked at everything as though it were new; and the way he knew the taste of corpse-tea but not the taste of whiskey. That’s not a young man or an old man, Fjord thought. That’s _otherworldly_. His age swallowed up in the death-darkened brush of the Savalirwood.

Or so he had thought. He knew him better now, knew he was actually perfectly _worldly_ \--

(Caduceus skipping-happy, arms full of presents; Caduceus snoring in a heap with Yasha; Caduceus drunk with his head on the bar…)

\--or else the world was leeching the ‘other’ out of him. Maybe he was just getting easier to see.

Fjord looked closer still.

Eyes closed. Lips parted. A certain cant of the eyebrows. There must be a word for the effect. Pink hair spread above and around him, mermaid-like, in a way that made Fjord’s sailorheart trip--

\-- _Don’t compare another man to a mermaid_ , Vandren’s drawl scolded him. He ignored it. He was getting better about ignoring it.

Then there was how damned _skinny_ he was. Emaciation, yes, but also (why hadn’t he noticed it before?) a certain _gangliness_ that Fjord remembered hating on his own body. Veth had a good word for it –‘beanpole.’ Could it be Caduceus was (the corner of Fjord’s mouth twitched) a late bloomer?

It could be. Firbolgs age differently than half-orcs or tieflings or humans. He was, in a sense, no older than Jester.

 _Cradlerobber_.

If anyone had been watching, they would have seen Fjord suddenly disturbed. He’d gotten very good at ignoring Vandren; but Vandren’s wasn’t the only voice he’d locked away inside himself.

‘Uh, _no_.’ He thought. ‘Even a young firbolg is still, what, a century gone? That’s me three times over, with change.’

The hidden interjector was silent.

 _Any_ -way…

Anyway, Caduceus wasn’t his. He was a friend, a mentor. A lighthouse of sorts (he sensed the cliché here, embraced it, acquiescing to the accuracy of the thing), but not _his_. Not in a way he had to worry about.

_Not yet._

Well, hold on--

_Caleb told you how hard he fought for you._

It was so complicated. Too young for him, too old for him, too _good_ for him.

_Even so._

Even so, he shuffled closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body. The better to study his subject.

(Caleb snorted somewhere in the dark. Fjord thought, how bold being unobserved makes me! Downright sketchy. It wasn’t the first time he’d had such a thought)

What was it about this image that made Caduceus seem younger? He looked relaxed, yes, but that wasn’t it. He always looked relaxed. All day every day with that easy lopsided smile. Compare and contrast. Jester always looked happy, too, and that made _her_ seem younger.

But happiness sat differently on Caduceus’ features. It made him older. As if it were too long coming.

But not now. Now he looked—

(oh, there _was_ a word, wasn’t there?)

\--he looked _sweet_.

Fjord swallowed, began to knead his chest. It was a part of him that still ached from time to time, and never more than in moments like these. Tenderness, for him, seemed entwined with pain.

And whatever else, he could admit he did feel…tenderness…

His kneading knocked against the symbol of the wildmother. It made a tinkling, metallic sound. It would not have disturbed a normal person, but Caduceus stirred as if someone had called his name. His eyes cracked open, looking around sightlessly. The light from the guardian reflected off the dim pink of his irises. It gave the illusion of a faint glow, as from bioluminescent plants deep underwater.

Then those glowing-not-glowing eyes fixed on Fjord.

He did not, Fjord thought, look suitably affronted to see another face mere inches from his own. Instead, he put on a drowsy variation of the lopsided smile Fjord had been ruminating on.

“Hullo,” he said, voice husky.

“Hi,” Fjord whispered back. The tips of his ears were hot. “Sorry, I, uh…”

He moved to scoot back –when a hand closed around his, anchoring him in place. Caduceus rolled onto his side, facing Fjord.

“Stay if you want.” He did not seem entirely awake. If he had been, Fjord would have pointed out the just-a- _bit_ -more-than-gentle grip around his wrist. How it called into question _who_ wanted _what_ around here.

Still…

Fjord moved until their foreheads were touching. so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice above a whisper, “Only if you don’t mind.”

(something about the situation –the purple light, the nearness, the whispering— made him shiver. In a way he was _not_ prepared to examine right now)

“Mm,” Pleased. One ear flicked. Pink eyes closed. The grip loosened, but did not remove itself.

Fjord waited until he was sure the other was asleep. Then he turned his palm upwards, twining their fingers together. The squeeze in return was likely unconscious.

So, too, the way the long arc of Caduceus’ body curled around their joined hands. Like it was the only source of warmth for miles. He was asleep, and therefore shameless, and innocent of all this. He did not let go.

Fjord’s heart was beating too hard to even think of sleeping, and he wasn’t in the most comfortable position. Sweat began to build on his palm. His arm fell asleep. He distracted himself by newly examining the face of the very young man holding him captive. It had proven to be endlessly fascinating thus far.

Again: _cradlerobber_.

“Hush,” he said, out loud despite himself. Caduceus shifted at the sound, strands of hair slipping down across his eyes. A new voice, fresh and alarming, called out at the sight.

It said, with an odd desperation, “ _darling…!_ ”

The word, and other unsaid truths, rang in Fjord’s ears.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is joycrispy, come wail over fjorclay with me (and give me a prompt, if you like)


End file.
